Blankets and Margaritas
by Caeria
Summary: Created as a Gift Fic for AO3 Fandom Growth Exchange 2015. SUMMARY: Snow, an abandoned shack, and a blanket.


**Blankets and Margaritas**

Caitlin pulled Michael closer to the fire burning in the stone fireplace. It was small, and there were a few stones that had tumbled out of the crumbling mortar, but it was a working fireplace. At this point she was grateful for what they could get. While it wasn't putting out a whole lot of heat yet, she knew it would get better once it developed a bed of coals, but right now it was barely taking the chill off her cold fingers. She knew it was doing Michael, in his wet clothes, no good.

She noticed a violent shiver work its way through his frame. "Michael, you need to take off your clothes."

His gaze swung from the fire to stare blankly at her. She wasn't sure if he was going into some kind of shock and didn't comprehend, or if he was balking at the idea of stripping in front of her.

"Michael-"

He let out a shaky sigh, giving her a curt nod before turning slightly away from her as he slipped his suit jacket from his shoulders.

Seeing that he was beginning to disrobe, she tried to give him as much privacy as she could while telling herself that his seeming reluctance to strip in front of her had nothing to do with her. Seeking to divert her own insecurities, she turned her attention to the rough hewn bed in the corner of the small lineman's shack they'd found. Pulling off the dusty blankets she was hit by a wave of disappointment as she got a good look at the mattress. The top ticking had been eaten through in multiple places and the stuffing pulled out by some kind of rodents. Droppings and stains of questionable origin covered what remained.

She grimaced in disgust. Not wanting to lay on that, she shifted through the blankets that had been piled on top. She was pleased to see that there were actually two blankets. Under the threadbare quilt was a tanned deer hide blanket, made from several pieced together irregular squares. Snatching that up, she gave it a good hard shake. The dust of years whirled up into the air causing her to sneeze uncontrollably several times. One corner had been chewed on, but nothing as bad as the mattress. It would do nicely to insulate them from the cold wooden floor of the cabin.

She picked up the quilt next and gave it a shake as well, wrinkling her nose as bits of the mattress stuffing fell from its folds. But, she was pleased to see that it didn't look as if it had been chewed on or used as a mouse nest. When she took both blankets to the fireplace, Michael was still standing there in his wet clothes. He'd only removed his jacket, which was laid across the hearth stones of the fireplace, and toed off his shoe and socks.

"Michael? What's wrong?"

He turned slightly, his expression a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. He held up his hands which were shaking uncontrollable. "I m-might ne-need assist-ance." The chatter of his teeth broke up his normally smooth voice.

She winced. Michael should never, she decided, sound like that. She'd had too many late-night fantasies involving the smooth timbre of his voice whispering wicked words in the dark to ever want to hear that painful, cold-induced stuttering.

Ducking her head to hide her blush, she raised her hands to his vest, quickly undoing the small buttons. _How many times had she dreamed of doing that?_ She bit her lip at the memory of one particularly favorite fantasy where she'd stripped Michael in a slow, erotic tease in her bathroom only for him to return the favor. In the fantasy, they'd eventually ended up in the shower where Michael had proceeded to show her just how fun sex in the shower could be.

Feeling the wet cold from his clothes chill her fingers, she reminded herself that this was no fantasy. Michael was depending on her to get him warm. Shoving down her illicit thoughts, she reverted to rambling, trying to distract herself from him and him from the unwelcome invasion of his privacy and person that she was engaging in. "I'm sorry about this." She finished stripping off his vest, wrung it out, and laid it beside his jacket before starting on his shirt. "I know this is awkward for you."

"I-It's okay, Ca-Caitlin. Must-must be d-done."

Once she had his shirt and undershirt off, she grabbed up the quilt, wrapping it around his shoulders and rubbing briskly at his skin through the cloth. "I'm going to have to-" she trailed off, uncomfortable with finishing the rest of the sentence.

He had the nerve to grin at her, though his expression was tight, hinting at his own embarrassment. "N-Never com-complain about a-a-a beautiful w-woman s-s-striping me."

She laughed a little. If he could joke about this then she would do her part to ease the awkward tension. "Trust me, Michael. You had only to ask if you wanted to get naked with me. You didn't have to go to these extremes." _And if there was more truth than tease in her words, well, she was the only one to know._

She reached beneath the blanket and quickly undid his belt and zipper. Taking a firm grip, she pulled down his pants and underwear at the same time.

"N-next time," he said, as he stepped out of the wet clothes. "Some-somewhere tropical."

She ignored the little flutter and bloom of heat in her body at the idea of _next time_. "Definitely," she said. "With a nice beach and margaritas and a cabana boy named Juan." Bending down, she picked up his clothing and wrung out his pants as best she could.

"J-Juan? Ssshould I b-be jealous?"

She flashed him a smile. "Of a tequila slinging pool boy? Never."

Turning, she lay out his pants with his other clothes, rearranging things so that the heat of their small fire reached everything. All the while she tried very hard to _not_ think about the fact that Michael was naked under the shabby quilt and that she was about to get almost equally naked with him.

"C-cait?"

She heard the question in his voice and the reassurance. Procrastinating, she tossed a couple more logs onto the fire and pulled her meager stash of logs a little closer. The fire would need tending during the night and having the extra pieces close by would be easier. When she had everything arranged and nothing left to distract her, she turned back to him. She gestured to the hide blanket. "Go on. Go lie down."

He eyed her carefully, before deliberately turning his back to her and settling down onto his side. He was trying to give her as much privacy as she'd been able to give to him.

She knew that her fascination with Michael was a simple crush – a normal attraction to a good-looking man. But, sometimes, wen he did things like that, it hit her that if things were different, he was the kind of man that she could fall for. It was that same sense of old fashioned manners and gallantry that had initially attracted her to Hawke. _Look how well that turned out,_ a cynical side of her pointed out.

The internal admonishment was an old one, its voice sounding suspiciously like her mother's. She scowled. She wasn't going to make the same mistake with Michael. Unlike with Hawke, who she at one time had a slim chance with, Michael was beyond her grasp and she was keeping that firmly in mind. Despite the fact that she was about to get up close and naked with him.

 _Naked. Oh, sweet heaven._

Giving herself a mental shake, she stripped quickly and methodically out of her clothes until she was down to her underwear, bra and socks. Her own clothes were relatively dry so she laid them across the quilt covering Michael. They weren't much, but at this point, she'd take all the layers they could get. Task finished, she stared down at her brown, cotton-sock covered feet and wiggled her toes. _Yeah, that was sexy._ Snorting softly at her own ridiculousness, she shoved her crush down deep where it hopefully wouldn't come back to make a fool of her.

The room was finally warming up, but the air was still bitingly cold and her skin prickled with goosebumps. The fire could only do so much in the drafty and un-insulated shack. Shivering slightly, she knelt down next to Michael who was wrapped in the quilt up to his nose.

Reaching out to the blanket where his feet should be, she gave a squeeze.

Michael's head lifted slightly, his good eye open while he held the other closed. "W-what?"

"How are you feet?"

He gave her a small head shake. "Fro-Frozen."

"Figured. Hold on a sec." Plopping down on the floor she pulled her socks off before delving under the blanket to find Michael's feet. She hissed in sympathy as her fingers encountered his ice-cold toes.

At his confused frown, she held up on the socks, before pulling first one and then the other over his frozen feet. "You need these more than I do. Besides, I'll be damned if I have to go back to the Firm and explain how you lost your toes to frostbite under my watch."

Flipping the blanket back over his feet, she tucked the ends under so there wouldn't be any drafts. Then she crawled up beside him as Michael held up one edge of the blanket. Scooting under, she wiggled backwards until her back snugged up against his chest.

As her skin encountered his, a violent shiver wracked her body from head to toe.

"S-sorry."

The word was breathed against her neck where Michael had ducked his head. His body might be cold, but his breath was warm, sending another shiver though her, one she hoped that he'd attribute to the cold.

"How many times have I told you to stop apologizing? The storm wasn't your fault and neither was the lightning. And I totally blame the Firm's maintenance people for the instruments frying. There are enough safety features in a chopper for that not to have happened."

"M-my fault y-you were ev-even flying."

She snorted. "Nonsense. I volunteered to take you to that meeting. Sam coming down with that stomach virus wasn't your doing." She made a small sound of amusement. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone turn that shade of green before. And truthfully, Sam is a good, solid pilot, but she doesn't have the experience to handle that landing we made. Doing an auto-rotation that close to the ground is never ideal. So I'm glad it was me." She felt him shift behind her. "And stop trying to inch away." She groped behind her until she found his arm and pulled it around to her front, in effect pulling him in closer to her.

He hissed as she brought his arm around her waist and tucked his cold fingers under her rib cage. She ignored the sound. "Besides, you were the one who got out our mayday and spotted this place. If you hadn't, we'd be frozen popsicles."

"Y-You mean I would b-be a frozen popsicle."

Caitlin shivered again, this time from memory. She'd been a few feet ahead of Michael because of his slower pace. When the ice covering the creek they'd been crossing broke with a sound like a rifle shot, she'd turned around just in time to see Michael go under. Only his cane, wedged across the hole, had kept him from being swept under the ice by the fast flowing stream. By the time she'd managed to pull him out and up onto thicker ice, he'd lost his heavy white wool coat, his glasses, one shoe and his cane.

She'd also lost her coat, as she'd been using it as a makeshift tether for Michael while he'd been in the stream. Beyond a few splashes, and the sleeves of her flannel shirt getting wet, she'd remained relatively dry though. He'd been soaked to the skin with his lips taking on a blue tinge within minutes of being pulled from the water. She'd been terrified that they wouldn't make it to the abandoned lineman's shack he'd spotted before he lost consciousness. She was a strong woman, but she'd been unsure how far she'd be able to carry him.

"It doesn't matter," she said firmly. "We made it here. We have shelter, drafty though it may be, and a fire going. We have blankets. And as soon as the storm breaks, someone will come for us."

"F-Firm or Hawke?"

She shrugged, the motion a little lopsided since she was lying down. "If Hawke and Dom are back by the time the storm clears. With that charter they were running down to Cabo, they might not even know about us until it's all said and done."

She fell silent. They really had been lucky to spot this little cabin. It wasn't much and there were chinks in the wooden siding that were big enough to put her fingers though, but it offered more protection than the downed Jet Ranger and allowed them the luxury of the fire in its tiny stone fireplace. Both things were going to keep them alive long enough to get rescued.

She felt herself start to drift as she listened to the sounds of the storm and the pops and hisses of the fire. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. Between the chopper going down and the fight to get Michael out the water, she didn't have much left in her. The only thing keeping her awake now was the feel of Michael's chilled skin against her own and the shivers that shook his body every so often.

She felt the fingers tucked under her side. They were warmer, which was a good sign. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Still cold."

"You feel warmer. And you got that out without stuttering. That's a good sign."

She felt him shift behind her, his arm tightening slightly. "Thank you."

She smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "You're welcome."

* * *

Pain brought Caitlin awake. Her left leg and hip were asleep where they had rested against the hard wooden floor. The thin hide blanket had kept the chill from the floor from reaching them, but it had provided no padding. Gritting her teeth, she shifted slightly and gasped at the feeling of blood rushing down to her toes.

Breathing through the sensations, she tried to focus on her surroundings. The storm was still raging but seemed to have slacked off some. That was good, as it meant they might be rescued sometime tomorrow before the lack of food became an issue.

She looked over her shoulder at Michael. He'd turned over onto his back at some point. With an ungraceful roll, she shifted over to her other side to lay a hand on his chest and was greatly comforted to feel solid warmth beneath her fingertips. Feeling the heat of his body relaxed a knot of fear that had settled earlier just beneath her breastbone. He was going to be okay.

Scowling at the pain, she stretched her leg out slightly. The pins and needles sensation of returning circulation was starting to fade and she was fairly certain it would support her without dropping her onto her ass, which was a good thing because the fire had burned down to coals. They were still radiating heat, but not enough to make the room much more than habitable. It was still damn cold in there. She'd need to put another couple of logs onto the fire if it was going to last them until morning. She glanced over to the dusty panes of the glass set in the shack's one tiny window. The darkness beyond was absolute so she was going to assume there were still long hours until daylight.

Knowing she was going to have to get up, she slid backwards out from under their shared blanket. The colder air of the room immediately caused her skin to prickle, the tiny hairs on her arms standing on end in a useless attempt to keep her warm. Grabbing up Michael's shirt from where she'd laid it in front of the fire, she shrugged into its warmth, thankful that it was now dry. Working quickly, she added three more logs to the fire before giving the coals a quick stir with a thick branch. As soon as she saw the first log catch, she glanced towards the door. Best take care of necessities while she was up.

Slipping on her shoes, she steeled herself with gritted teeth before pulling open the door and sliding outside into the darkness. Michael's thin shirt didn't provide much protection from the still falling snow, although thankfully the storm seemed to have blown itself out. Finishing her bathroom break, she grabbed another couple of frozen logs from the side of the shack, and headed back inside. Teeth chattering, she huddled up against the now steadily burning fire to warm up. When she was no longer shivering, she stripped back off Michael's now snow-damp shirt and crawled into their little blanketed cocoon of warmth.

Michael stirred as she huddled under the blanket, his head rising up slightly. "S'okay?" His voice was husky with sleep.

"Bathroom break and putting more logs on. Go back to sleep."

"Hmm." The sound was more rumble than an affirmative but his head lowered back down.

A delayed shudder rippled through her and Cait puffed out a breath. She knew it would take a few minutes for her to warm back up so she could go back to sleep. Too busy thinking about how cold she was, she let out a squeak when Michael reached out an arm and pulled her close to him. Her head now pillowed on his shoulder, he wrapped his arm more securely around her shoulders.

She went stiff in his hold, unsure what exactly she should do.

"Relax." The word was whispered against her temple. "You're cold. Let me be the heater this time."

She let out a short, nervous chuckle. "I'll put your shoulder to sleep."

"If that happens, I'll move you."

"Mich-"

"Sleep," he interrupted.

She let out an aggrieved "Fine" and forced herself to relax against him, hyper-conscious of the warm, bare skin she was laying partially against.

As she relaxed, Michael did too. A few minutes later she heard his breathing change as he slipped back into sleep. She tried to gently pull away only for Michael's arm to tighten around her. She muttered a low curse. He would be the type to cuddle. Under normal circumstances – _normal naked circumstances_ – she'd be all for that. But now, lying against him like this was too much like those wayward and inappropriate fantasies of hers.

Her conscience said she needed to move. Her libido however, was settling in and taking notes on the fact that the dip of his shoulder was the perfect height to provide her a nice pillow. He was warm against her skin and the fine hairs dusted across his chest tickled her palm where it rested against his breastbone. Best of all, she could hear his heartbeat, its strong, steady cadence beneath her ear pulling her in and relaxing her even further. Her eyes closed to better memorize the feel of him against her, even as she felt guilty for doing so. They were here under the worst of circumstances, but she couldn't say that she minded where she was. With that thought on her mind, she drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Michael came awake slowly, the remnants of his dream – all smooth silky skin, warmth, and breathy sighs - following him into wakefulness. Rumbling his contentment, he pulled the woman nestled into his side more firmly on top of him. Only half awake, his mind still foggy with dreams and sleep, he gave little thought to the fact that his normally soft bed seemed to be uncomfortably hard and that he didn't remember breaking his self-imposed celibacy.

The woman lying atop him shifted as she too started to wake. With his thoughts still caught up in half remembered dreams, he slid his hands over sweetly rounded hips to pull her more firmly against him.

She groaned softly, her body undulating in a fluid wave that cleared the haze from his mind in a rush of adrenaline and hot desire.

 _Caitlin._ Her name tumbled through his mind even as she shifted again, rising up just enough to blink down at him. Remembering just in time to close his blinded eye, he saw the exact moment she realized their situation. Or more, correctly, she realized _his_ situation.

 _He was going to hell_. If she didn't kill him, then Hawke would as soon as he heard about this.

Cait shifted again and his hands clamped down on her hips to keep her from moving. It took more willpower than he imagined it should to keep from thrusting his hips up.

He'd not been with a woman in over two years. Not since that disastrous night shortly after Hawke had retrieved Airwolf from Moffett. Hurting and angry, grasping at the tenuous control over his job and his life, he'd tried to lose himself in the arms of Senator Godfrey's campaign manager, Valerie Thompson. It had been a mistake of such magnitude that he'd shied away from any further intimate encounters, not wanting to ever again see that look of horror and pity on any woman's face.

Now here was Caitlin, splayed out on top of him, his arousal pressing hotly into the soft skin of her belly.

He squeezed both eyes closed, and thumped his head back against the floor. "My apologies, Caitlin. I wasn't really awake. And you were . . . I could feel . . ." He trailed off. There was really no graceful way to explain himself. He let out a sigh. "I was having a dream and I woke up to find the woman from the dream naked and in my arms. In my defense, I'd like to point out that I was mostly still asleep." Of course, that didn't explain the erection, but Michael was confident enough that Caitlin knew the relationship between men, mornings and naked women.

Positive she wouldn't move again and fairly sure that he really ought to move his hands, he released her, letting his fingers hover under the blanket a few inches above her skin. Reopening his one good eye, he made sure to keep the other closed. Oddly enough, she wasn't scrambling off of him as he thought she would. Confused and most definitely still aroused, he tried to meet her gaze but her head was tilted down, her bangs shadowed her eyes. "Uh, Caitlin?"

Her face tilted up just enough that she could watch him under her lashes. "You woke up to find the woman you were dreaming about naked and in your arms."

He winced. _Definitely going to hell_. But he'd never been a man to run away from the truth. "You."

She took a deep breath and Michael clenched his hands into fists to keep from touching her as her breasts pressed against his chest.

"Me?" There was disbelief in her voice, mixed with faint wonder.

"Is that so hard to believe? You are a remarkable woman." He gave her a grin and decided to push his luck just a little bit, letting his still hovering hands drop down to once again frame her hips. "I like remarkable women."

She let out a derisive snort as she studied him, her head tilted just slightly to the side. "But that begs the question of whether it's me personally, or would you be having this same _problem_ if you woke up with any semi-naked woman?" she asked tartly.

"Remarkable and smart." He chuckled approvingly. "I could lie." His voice went slyly self-mocking. "I'm good at that, you know.

She gave him a thump on his chest and he chuckled again. _Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't going to hell after all considering that Caitlin still hadn't moved and she was definitely flirting with him._ "Truthfully, I don't know, Caitlin. The fact that you are a desirable woman has not escaped my notice even before we found ourselves in this situation. On the other hand, I would also like to think my control is better than that of your average alley cat and that just any warm body would not have attracted my attention. And-" he hesitated, unsure if he should admit to the rest.

"And?"

He thought back to Valerie. "Since my injuries . . . well, let's just say that my last encounter with a woman didn't go well and I have been less than interested in anyone since then. It would take a lot to let my guard down."

Her eyes widened and he could see her processing his words, weighing everything he wasn't saying. _Smart woman, indeed._

"You trust me." A delighted smile spread across her face. " _You_. Mr-I-Don't-Trust-Anyone-Super-Spy."

He glared at her, though he suspected she was less impressed with the glare as his erection still pressed intimately against her. "I'm not that bad. I trust Hawke."

She thumped him again. "You are. And you trust String to _be_ String. That's different." She shifted slightly again, a flex of her hips against his. "However did you happen to end up trusting me?"

"I don't know," he answered, although that was a lie and he suspected she knew that. _He knew_. In fact, he knew almost to the second on that day Caitlin helped pull him out of East Germany and he opened his eyes to find her hovering over him with open compassion in her eyes. But that was not something he was willing to share.

Then she surprised him again by raising a hand and brushing her thumb lightly across his closed eye. "Open it."

"Cait-"

A hint of an impish smile. "I've seen it already. Don't hide from me. Trust me. Open."

He opened his damaged eye. The cabin was shadowed and lit mostly by the coals and faint light coming in from the shack's lone window, but there was no hiding the trauma he'd suffered. Her thumb brushed feather light across his face again, just beneath his eye.

"During Moffett's attack, I hit my head hard enough to detach the retina. They attempted corrective surgery but there was too much damage."

She breathed out slowly and he braced himself for her to pull away from him. Like last time. _Like Valerie_.

"I have a confession to make."

"Oh?"

If she had surprised him before, it was nothing to the astonishment that zinged through him as Cait rocked forward to brush a delicate kiss across his lips.

"I could care less about your eye, or your limp, because the fact of the matter is, you Michael Briggs, are a desirable man and that has most certainly not escaped my notice."

He grinned, delighted with the before now unlooked for possibilities and the fact that Caitlin was still playing along and teasing him. "Desirable, huh? How do you feel about smart and remarkable? I have it on good authority that I'm quite remarkable. Much better than that Juan person you're so enamored of."

She gave a sinuous stretch that slid her entire body along his as she reached up to flick her tongue against the underside of his jaw. "Prove it," she whispered.

* * *

One moment Caitlin was daring Michael, the next her whole world spun and she found herself on her back, staring up at his exceeding smug grin.

Long used to puncturing String's sometimes overweening ego, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Have issues with a woman on top?" she asked dryly.

He laughed, unrepentant. "Not in the least. I have absolutely no objections to our previous position, but it's still rather cold in here." He reached over one shoulder and tugged the blanket a little further up his back where it had slipped down when he turned them. "I wouldn't want you to get cold, especially after all the work you did to warm us up."

"My hero."

He moved so he was hovering over her, his mouth brushing tantalizingly close to hers. "You better believe it and I have the white hat to prove it."

When she started to laugh, he kissed her, capturing her mirth. It started slow and teasing, his lips nibbling at hers. It wasn't long though before she opened to him with a soft groan that demanded more.

He chuckled again, refusing her invitation to deepen the kiss and keeping the contact just to right side of teasing.

She slid her hands along his back. Beneath her fingertips she can feel the raised scars and the rough patches of skin that marred his body. But they don't hold her attention. That belonged solely on the man above her who was so much more than any past injuries. "Michh-ael." She couldn't help drawing his name out in a frustrated hiss as her head tilted backwards.

He trailed his mouth down the column of her throat, his path a lazy meandering journey across her skin. She swore at him and any deities listening, but he didn't hurry his pace. Her whole body jerked when he brushed the edge of his mustache just below her ear.

"Hmm. Ticklish. I'll have to remember that."

Shifting, she curled her body upward to hook one leg around the back of his thigh. She'd go higher, she's flexible enough to wrap both her legs around his waist but she knew if she did she'd dislodge the blanket draped over them. She wanted him, but refused to freeze in order to have him. "I think I hate you." Her words are breathy and carry no heat to them.

He just laughed at her, lips continuing to trail along her skin punctuated with the occasional nibble that sent shivers that had nothing to do with the cold along her spine. The sound is rumble against her skin, so like her fantasies that desire swirled hot and low in her belly.

"Don't tease." She rolled her hips upwards into him to make her point and felt his breath shudder against her skin.

"I like teasing you." He moved down her neck to her collarbone, mouthing around the strap of her bra. "I think I could enjoy teasing you quite a bit."

His mustache brushed the skin above her breasts. "In fact, I think I could spend hours teasing you." She felt the tip of his tongue trace the curve of her breast as he followed the edge of the lace that outlined her bra.

"Front clasp," he murmured against her skin. "Why, Caitlin O'Shannessy, one would almost think you're trying to seduce me." Michael tilted slightly to one side as he used his thumb and forefinger to snap the catch.

Now it was her turn to chuckle, as his head dipped lower. "Not trying. Doing."

The halves of her bra fell away to her sides; Michael's nuzzling helping them along. Hot breath and cold air swirled across her nipples, tightening her flesh to almost painful points. She arched helplessly into him, trying to reach his warmth. Her hands roamed restlessly over his back and up the back of his neck before she threaded her fingers into his hair to pull him down. She groaned as his mouth closed around her. "More," she breathed.

Skin sliding against skin, Michael moved over her in, slow and languid. "Slowly," he answered. "I want to enjoy this. I want to enjoy you."

One of his hands trailed along her body, his knuckles brushing her skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake until he wrapped his fingers over her hip, his grip halting her body's restless movements.

She strained against his hold, testing his strength and found that she was effectively pinned beneath his body. As she relaxed, he lightened his grip, but still held her. Michael's lips were back at her ear, hot breath and hotter words pulling the faintest of whimpers from her. "I want to fuck you, Caitlin. Please tell me you are-"

"Yes. Yes." She cut him off. "Birth control."

"Good." A single word but there is such a wealth of dark desire wrapped around it that Caitlin's whole body strained upward as she dug her fingers into the breadth of his shoulders. The hand wrapped around her hip slid further down to her thigh and along her calf to brush against her ankle. She gasped at the sensation and curled her leg over him, holding him close to her.

* * *

Caitlin's leg arched over him, holding him close while the silky skin of her inner thigh rubbed tantalizingly against his side. She moved almost constantly now, a rolling, shifting undulation that tested his determination to take this slow. Sweat was starting to build between them, easing her movements until the slide of their bodies was slippery and effortless.

His blood sang, driving his desire higher. It was matched by Caitlin, her breaths quick and ragged, synching with his as they both strained against each other. Kisses grew sharper and more reckless as once again she pulled at him, all feminine strength and demand.

"Cait." Her name is dragged out of him, a growl and warning.

She didn't heed him. But then she never did – not him nor Dom or even Hawke. And in that moment he realized that's one of the things he liked about her – her sass and attitude. For a moment the part of him that is the agent wished she was one of his, but as her teeth nipped at his neck he promptly dismissed that thought because then he couldn't have this.

 _And he wanted this_.

Insinuating a hand between them, he trailed it down her body, slick now with the heat and sweat between them, until he hooked two fingers into her panties. She was wet and hot and her whole body bucked beneath him when he drug the back of his knuckles against her. The sound Caitlin made then has him grasping onto the edges of his control only to realize that he wouldn't be able to take her underwear off and still keep them both under their blanket.

"Fuck." The word, growled low into her collarbone, is a curse and prayer and declaration of intent all in wrapped together. Wanting her now and not willing to wait, he simply pulled the leg of her panties aside, pushing into her with a snap of his hips that buried him deep inside of her.

Caitlin – shifting, moving, Caitlin – froze beneath, even her breath caught in her throat. He pulled back just enough to see her face. Her hair was a tangled halo, her eyes are wide and her lower lip is caught between her teeth.

Then her lashes flutter down as she dragged in a shuddering breath. "Again," she whispered into the space between them.

He gave her what she asked for and Caitlin exploded again into motion, meeting the movement of his hips. With every thrust he felt the elastic band of her panties rubbing along his length. It's an added sensation that both tormented and enticed.

"Michael. Please."

The _please_ was a rising whine of sound as he felt her body tightening around his, her tension growing. When the first tremors hit her, he could do nothing more than clench her body to his and ride out her orgasm. He tried to keep his own thrusts hard and controlled, but the pull of her body proved too much and he soon bucked uncontrollably into her, his own orgasm a white hot sensation of scorched nerves and rasping breaths.

She made a quiet noise as he slipped from her body, the stretched out elastic of her panties snapping back into place against her leg. Laying quiet, he let the aftershocks pass through them. With the last of his strength he carefully turned them, only once losing the blanket that covered them, so that she once again lay atop him.

He let his hands roam lazily across the skin of her back. "Okay?"

She nuzzled against his chest. Her voice held a relaxed, sated air that puffed his chest with a purely masculine sort of pride. "You're right, Juan's got nothing on you."

He chuckled. "Damn straight." He glanced over to the lone window and the brightening sky beyond. "Rest. Storm's over. We probably have a couple of hours before a search team will get to us."

* * *

"So then what happened?"

Cait glanced down at the local Mexican restaurant's chipped Formica tabletop as Dom peered curiously at her. Fighting down the blush that wanted to rise into her cheeks, she gave what she hoped was a diffident shrug. "Once Michael got out of his wet clothes, I got him bundled up into the blankets I found."

String grimaced, his nose scrunched up in distaste. "You really stripped down and shared body heat with Archangel?"

Cait swatted at String's shoulder. "Don't be mean. You know that it's the best way to get someone warm who is suffering from hypothermia."

"Yeah, but Mr. Clean." Dom's face twisted like he'd bit into a lemon. "Hey, he didn't try anything, did he?" One meaty fist rose up in the air. "'Cause if he did, you tell me, Cait."

She forced a laugh and made sure that she met both of their gazes. "Michael was a gentleman. I can assure you, he didn't touch anywhere that I didn't give him permission to touch." She spoke the truth, just not the truth they were imagining.

She stopped talking as the waitress brought their food to the table. As they got their orders straightened out, Caitlin dug into her enchiladas. "And it wasn't really so bad. The storm blew itself out that morning and the Firm had a rescue sent by late afternoon. By the time they got there, we were hungry and cold, but nothing serious." She took a bite and shrugged. "Truthfully, I think we spent longer in the hospital afterwards being checked over since they wanted to keep us for observation. They wanted to make sure that we didn't suffer any adverse affects from either crash or the cold."

String snorted. "You mean they wanted to make sure Michael was okay. You were just along for the ride."

She took another bite and shrugged. "He's their first priority. But he was fine. I was fine."

"Yeah," Dom pointed out, "if you consider spending almost three days cooped up with the White Wonder and with one of those days him being naked, as fine."

She didn't correct Don on his assumption that only one day had been without clothing. That was secret that Caitlin planned on keeping. But it didn't mean she couldn't get in a few digs at Dom. She waited until Dom lifted his glass to take a drink before fluttered her eyes at him in an exaggerated manner. "He is indeed a _fine_ specimen of a naked man." She made sure to put a little extra emphasis and suggestion on the word 'fine.'

Water sprayed across the table as Dom hacked and coughed. "Ewww, Cait. Don't do that."

She laughed at both men as they turned back to their food, thankful that their attention was no longer on her. She'd taken a few more bites when their waitress came over with a large frozen margarita and set it down on their table in front of Caitlin.

"Sorry, but we didn't order that."

The waitress, whose nametag read Rose Marie, grinned at String. "No sir. It's for the lady. From the gentleman on the phone. He called in, said that this was for her. He said to tell her that it was compliments of Juan."

Now it was Cait's turn to cough and sputter as she felt the blush rise up hot on her cheeks _. Damn the man. How had he known they were coming here for lunch?_

Dom thumped her on her back until she could catch her breath. "So," he asked, "who's Juan?"

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AO3 Fandom Growth 2015

Gift Fic.


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